


The Best Kind of Celebration

by DeRez



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Boston Bruins, Celebrations, Clubbing, M/M, Sexual Content, Smut, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-13 00:42:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/817949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeRez/pseuds/DeRez
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Brad and Tyler celebrate their win and advancement into the conference finals by clubbing and getting drunk. The usual. Until, of course, Tyler gets bumped into Brad. Chapter Two is an alternate ending by request, a threesome of Brad/Tyler/Lucic :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prompt I came up with for myself after the Bruins defeated the Rangers, 3-1 and won the series 4-1 tonight. It was supposed to be a short little thing, but uh, it turned into this. Explicit, so you have been warned. 
> 
> Also, you can find my tumblr here:  
> [ DeRezao3](derezao3.tumblr.com)  
> Where you can submit prompts and where I'll post things first!

It was during his interview with the media after their 3-1 win over the Rangers to win the series and advance to the Conference Finals when Marchy practically tackled Tyler and pressed a kiss against his cheek. He then threw his arm around his shoulders, still in his skates while Tyler wasn’t, so they were pretty even height wise. 

The reporters laughed it off, attributing it to their awesome bromance. “Well, I guess this is a joint interview, now,” Tyler laughed, his happy grin never leaving.

They both got asked questions about the game, and about their match up with the Penguins and they gave politically correct answers, though Tyler really wanted to say he believed it was _their_ time again, and that they would win. But, management would frown on that, so he refrained. It was a pretty fun tag-team interview with Marchy, something they didn’t get to do a lot. 

After the media cleared up, the team enjoyed the atmosphere with just their team. Talk of going out was spread around the room, and who was he to turn that down? He and Marchy had a reputation to live up to, after all. 

An hour and a half later found almost the whole team at a club down town. Foxwoods had been on the list, but ultimately it was crossed off because nobody really wanted a long night. Besides, they _always_ went there, so a change of pace was refreshing.

Six beers in and Tyler was on the dance floor enjoying the perks of being a hockey player, with two hot chicks to dance with. Two more beers found his shirt off, encouraged by Brad who was also already shirtless and dancing as well. They couldn’t get drunk and not take their shirts off, it was sort of a thing now. Besides, winning the series 4-1 was pretty damn awesome and needed to be celebrated. 

Hell, even Fers was dancing and he was happily married. 

After a half hour of straight up dancing with random chicks, Tyler excused himself from the dance floor to refill his beer and chill with some of the guys. Brad joined him, as usual. They were never far apart when partying it up. 

In hindsight, it had been a stupid idea to drink four more beers. But, Tyler was one to live in the moment, and it didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time. 

So once he was drunk enough that he needed support to walk straight, he and Brad returned to the dance floor where they could display their fantastic moves. Which really weren’t all that fantastic and more hilarious to those not so drunk teammates. 

It was when Tyler stumbled over his own feet that things sort of changed in an instant. Brad, awesome and always-there Brad, managed to grab him before he face planted- which, how did he do that as drunk as he was? But he did, and they were close, and the dance floor was packed, so when Tyler was bumped into, he was pushed against his line mate and they found out the hard way how much grinding with chicks affected them. Only now Tyler was contemplating doing something completely stupid in public- and hell, even his drunk mind knew it was stupid, so that was saying something. 

But, it turns out he didn’t have to be the one to do something stupid- Brad had that covered. And god, why did grinding with his line mate feel so _good?_ Maybe this was taking their famed ‘bromance’ way too far, but Tyler didn’t quite care at this moment because there was friction, and it was good, and they were shirtless. 

“Fuck,” he shouted over the music, “Marchy, this is stupid!” he slurred, but his actions didn’t back his words, because he grabbed Brad’s hips and, and- fuck, that was even better! He felt an arm wrap loosely around his waist as the tempo of the music changed and became faster paced, and so did their movements. 

“Holy shit!” They heard the exclamation over the music, and when Tyler turned to look he saw Looch standing there, mouth gaping. “You idiots, there’s phones!” he waved his hand expressively, getting bumped from behind and stumbling a bit- he was drunk, but he seemed to be a voice of reason , still. 

“Shit,” Brad let go of Tyler, much to his disappointment, and he looked completely devastated, “I forgot,” he said simply. 

“How could you forget people have phones?” Looch looked at him with an incredulous expression.

“Fucking wasted, man,” Brad retorted, and he felt Tyler grab his arm to steady himself. 

Tyler moved closer again, leaning in, “Bathroom?” He asked loudly in his ear, and he could tell Brad hadn’t expected it- and wow, neither did he. Where did that come from?

“Fuck, seriously?” Brad asked, Looch completely forgotten. 

“Why not?” Tyler replied, and before he knew it, he was shoving through the crowd and pulling Brad with him, leaving Looch behind as if an afterthought. 

When they finally made it to the bathroom, luckily empty, Tyler opened up a stall and kicked down the lid on the toilet, and he could hear Brad closing the door and sliding the lock. Before he realized what was going on, Brad pressed him against the wall of the stall and their lips met. His hands were at his belt, fumbling with it, trying to get it undone. And wow, Tyler was so into this. He finally found something to do with his hands as he helped Brad with his belt, their lips never parting. Tyler realized he liked the heavy taste of beer on Brad’s tongue, and the way he was pressing against him. 

And Tyler thought he was a sex god? If this was how Brad operated, the girls he’d been with were fucking lucky. 

When Brad’s hand slipped into his jeans, Tyler’s head hit the stall wall, breaking the kiss with a gasp. “Fuck,” he mumbled, and then he was even more blown away when he felt Brad’s lips on his neck. Holy shit, Marchy was making him seem like a trembling virgin or some shit. And Tyler decided he couldn’t have that, so his hands went from bracing against the wall to Brad’s jeans, fumbling for only a few seconds before he finally got them loose enough to return the favor. 

It was Brad’s turn to react, and he let out a quiet groan into Tyler’s neck. The left winger paused in his handjob to grasp at the edges of Tyler’s boxers and jeans, and he pushed them down without much effort. Before he could do anything else, Tyler chose that moment to reverse their positions, using his height to his advantage and slamming Brad against the opposite wall, locking his lips with Brad’s once again. He followed Brad’s lead and worked his briefs and jeans down before pressing himself against the other firmly. 

Brad cursed against Tyler’s lips, “Fucking hell,” and he ground his hips forward, enjoying the skin-to-skin friction. The thing that surprised Brad was how fucking _close_ he was. He usually had stellar stamina, especially when he was drunk. But it was _Tyler_ and fuck, for some reason that really turned him on. He had never realized it before. 

Tyler was obviously having the same problem, because his movements against Brad seemed to get a bit more desperate. He broke the kiss to go to Brad’s neck, clamping down, surely leaving a mark. His hands trailed down Brad’s chest and abs, enjoying the solid muscle, a big difference from the soft skin of girls he was so used to. 

Brad let out a small little growl and ‘holy shit that was hot’ ran through Tyler’s head as the smaller winger twisted their positions once again, hands on Tyler’s hips to steady both of them as their hips moved against each other. Tyler returned his lips to Brad’s, and he was the first to cave to the onslaught of pleasure, letting loose a forcibly quiet moan against his lips. 

Brad followed him over the edge with a curse- which, typical- and their movements slowed as they rode it out and came down from their shared high. Tyler’s head was back against the wall, breaths coming quick and short, and Brad lifted his head from where he’d placed it on the taller player’s shoulder. “What the fuck?” He questioned, because apparently post-orgasm bliss sobered him up a bit. 

Tyler opened his eyes, still panting lightly, and he shifted a bit, lifting his head from back against the wall to look at the other. Okay, so his mind wasn’t as foggy as before, but he was still smashed. “Can we do this after every win?” Was his response, and whoa, he had no filter- which, duh, he should know that by now. 

Brad- and yeah, he was definitely a little sobered up because he had the sense to grab some toilet paper to clean them both up- gave him a look which Tyler couldn’t decipher in his current state. “Shit, seriously?” He asked.

Tyler didn’t know what that meant- did it mean he wasn’t interested and he was regretting this? Because for some reason the idea that Brad wasn’t into this hurt, a lot. “Yeah, no, well, only if you’re into that,” he fumbled with his words. 

“That was the best fucking orgasm ever, of course I’m into that,” Brad grinned, and he leaned in again, capturing Tyler’s lips- the kiss slower, less needy. 

-

When they returned to the world of partying in the club, they were only slightly disheveled, and that was an accomplishment. And when they returned to the bar where a lot of the guys still were, they were greeted with smirks and cat calls. 

Brad and Tyler must have looked confused, because Looch lifted his beer, “Had a lot of fun in the bathroom, eh?” 

Tyler wasn’t one to get embarrassed easily or blush, but he definitely felt his face heat up. What do you even say to that?

“You could say that,” it was Brad who shrugged, nonchalant. And Tyler wondered if he was crazy or smart for being so calm about it. 

Soupy shook his head, “God, why am I not surprised? Just don’t bring it into the locker room, please,” he begged. 

Dougie was there, too, though being the responsible little ginger, was completely sober (unlike the other two rookies). His face scrunched up, “Wait, what are you guys implying?” He asked, unsure. 

Looch laughed and threw and arm around the young rookie. “Young grasshopper, they definitely just hooked up,” he said, not one for being subtle when drunk. 

Dougie looked absolutely horrified, “Oh my god, nobody saw, right!? The press will have a field day!” he freaked. 

Tyler couldn’t help but laugh, because really, Dougie was so… responsible. “I don’t think so,” he said, and Brad nodded.

Brad pulled out his wallet, handing his credit card to Dougie- because he knew he could trust the ginger to be responsible- and grinned, “Can you close out our tab? Pretty sure Tyler and I have a date with my bed, or his, whichever,” and the way Dougie’s horrified look instantly returned made him happy.

“Uh, sure, yeah, uh,” Dougie stuttered, face red, “Okay,” he finished. 

“Good kid!” Tyler chirped, and Brad agreed. 

“Have fun, use protection! You two have both been around, don’t take risks,” Ference called, a shit eating grin on his face. 

Brad rolled his eyes, and Tyler threw an arm around him for support, “Don’t worry, Fers, we’ll be safe,” he shot back, glad their teammates were taking this so well- even innocent-horrified Dougie! 

The two left the club, taking a taxi back to Brad’s pad, where despite what they’d said, they simply knocked out as soon as they hit the bed, limbs tangled.


	2. ALTERNATE ENDING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was done by request for Staycalmandbergeron :) A threesome including Brad, Tyler, and Looch. Please be kind! I've never done a threesome before, and this is like, my second time at smut.

It was during his interview with the media after their 3-1 win over the Rangers to win the series and advance to the Conference Finals when Marchy practically tackled Tyler and pressed a kiss against his cheek. He then threw his arm around his shoulders, still in his skates while Tyler wasn’t, so they were pretty even height wise. 

The reporters laughed it off, attributing it to their awesome bromance. “Well, I guess this is a joint interview, now,” Tyler laughed, his happy grin never leaving.

They both got asked questions about the game, and about their match up with the Penguins and they gave politically correct answers, though Tyler really wanted to say he believed it was _their_ time again, and that they would win. But, management would frown on that, so he refrained. It was a pretty fun tag-team interview with Marchy, something they didn’t get to do a lot. 

After the media cleared up, the team enjoyed the atmosphere with just their team. Talk of going out was spread around the room, and who was he to turn that down? He and Marchy had a reputation to live up to, after all. 

An hour and a half later found almost the whole team at a club down town. Foxwoods had been on the list, but ultimately it was crossed off because nobody really wanted a long night. Besides, they _always_ went there, so a change of pace was refreshing.

Six beers in and Tyler was on the dance floor enjoying the perks of being a hockey player, with two hot chicks to dance with. Two more beers found his shirt off, encouraged by Brad who was also already shirtless and dancing as well. They couldn’t get drunk and not take their shirts off, it was sort of a thing now. Besides, winning the series 4-1 was pretty damn awesome and needed to be celebrated. 

Hell, even Fers was dancing and he was happily married. 

After a half hour of straight up dancing with random chicks, Tyler excused himself from the dance floor to refill his beer and chill with some of the guys. Brad joined him, as usual. They were never far apart when partying it up. 

In hindsight, it had been a stupid idea to drink four more beers. But, Tyler was one to live in the moment, and it didn’t seem like a bad idea at the time. 

So once he was drunk enough that he needed support to walk straight, he and Brad returned to the dance floor where they could display their fantastic moves. Which really weren’t all that fantastic and more hilarious to those not so drunk teammates. 

It was when Tyler stumbled over his own feet that things sort of changed in an instant. Brad, awesome and always-there Brad, managed to grab him before he face planted- which, how did he do that as drunk as he was? But he did, and they were close, and the dance floor was packed, so when Tyler was bumped into, he was pushed against his line mate and they found out the hard way how much grinding with chicks affected them. Only now Tyler was contemplating doing something completely stupid in public- and hell, even his drunk mind knew it was stupid, so that was saying something. 

But, it turns out he didn’t have to be the one to do something stupid- Brad had that covered. And god, why did grinding with his line mate feel so _good?_ Maybe this was taking their famed ‘bromance’ way too far, but Tyler didn’t quite care at this moment because there was friction, and it was good, and they were shirtless. 

“Fuck,” he shouted over the music, “Marchy, this is stupid!” he slurred, but his actions didn’t back his words, because he grabbed Brad’s hips and, and- fuck, that was even better! He felt an arm wrap loosely around his waist as the tempo of the music changed and became faster paced, and so did their movements. 

“Holy shit!” They heard the exclamation over the music, and when Tyler turned to look he saw Soupy standing there, mouth gaping. “You idiots, there’s phones!” he waved his hand expressively, getting bumped from behind and stumbling a bit- he was a bit drunk, but he seemed to be a voice of reason , still. 

“Shit,” Brad let go of Tyler, much to his disappointment, and he looked completely devastated, “I forgot,” he said simply. 

“How could you forget people have phones?” Soupy looked at him with an incredulous expression.

“Fucking wasted, man,” Brad retorted, and he felt Tyler grab his arm to steady himself. 

Tyler moved closer again, leaning in, “Bathroom?” He asked loudly in his ear, and he could tell Brad hadn’t expected it- and wow, neither did he. Where did that come from?

“Fuck, seriously?” Brad asked, Soupy completely forgotten. 

“Why not?” Tyler replied, and before he knew it, he was shoving through the crowd and pulling Brad with him, leaving Soupy behind as if an afterthought. 

They reached the bathroom, finding it empty and closing the door behind them. He was incredibly happy it was a single bathroom, not one with stalls. Before Tyler could realize what was going on, he felt himself pressed against the wall and Brad’s lips were on his. And he was definitely okay with that. He kissed back, their tongues clashing for dominance. He felt hands at his belt and Tyler let out a whimper- which startled him because fuck, he’d never done _that_ before. He was so into this, why hadn’t they hooked up sooner? Tyler finally found something to do with his hands, and that was to help Brad remove his belt. 

Brad groaned into the kiss as he finally got the belt undone, and he slid it out of the loops with ease. The shorter winger quickly loosened Tyler’s jeans and slid a hand in, delighted when Tyler bucked his hips forward. “Fuck, Segs,” Brad muttered, biting down on Tyler’s collarbone, “you’re fucking hot,” he said, hand moving with practiced strokes. 

Tyler lifted his head from back against the wall, panting slightly. His dark eyes caught Brad’s and he pulled him in for another fierce kiss.

The door swung open, suddenly, startling the two line mates. They heard a “The fuck!” as they pulled apart, “Fuck, you didn’t lock the door?” Tyler asked, opening his eyes and only then noticing it was Looch who had just walked in on them. 

Milan stared at the two, mouth hanging open slightly. Brad’s hand was still in Tyler’s pants, and they were pressed against each other against the wall, looking very fucking turned on. And hell if it wasn’t the hottest thing Looch had ever seen. He couldn’t find words, though, and he could feel himself straining against his pants. “Uh,” he stammered.

Brad looked at him, and his eyes travelled south, and he found himself smirking, “You want in?” He asked, having absolutely no filter when he was drunk. He looked at Tyler, and he found that the other was also grinning, eyes on Milan’s obvious hard-on. 

Milan looked somewhat dumbstruck, and he was known to be a bit slow when drunk. But when it clicked, his eyes practically darkened and he flipped the lock on the door, as Brad should have done before. No words were needed as he moved forward and turned Brad around and leaned down to find his lips. Just as their lips met, he felt Tyler’s hands unclasping the button of his jeans and sliding them down just enough to free his dick. Looch groaned into Brad’s mouth as Tyler’s hand cupped his balls and then stroked the length of his dick. Shit, Tyler really did have magical hands.

Brad let out a moan of his own when Milan palmed his erection through his pants. “Fuck,” he cursed, and his hands moved to his belt, which he quickly undid so he could free himself from the restricting jeans he wore. Once he did, Looch smirked and wrapped a hand around it, lips pressing against his again as he stroked Brad. Brad was all too eager to press back and deepen the kiss, bucking his hips forward into Milan’s hand.

“Shit,” Tyler groaned, eyes narrowing slightly, feeling somewhat angry that Looch was apparently so good at pleasing Marchy. He released Milan’s dick, much to his dismay, and then swatted his hand away from Brad. By then, Looch had pulled his lips from Brad to look at Seguin with a quizzical expression. But Tyler ignored him and before the other two could realize it, he was on his knees and licking the length of Brad’s shaft. 

The loud moan he received in return was definitely worth it, so Tyler took it further and brought the head completely into his mouth, giving an experimental suck. Brad practically _mewled_ , and that alone was enough to encourage him further.

“Shit,” Milan cursed, watching, his dick twitching in arousal. “That’s not even fair,” he said, watching Brad’s hand tread through Tyler’s hair, looking completely blissed out. It was as if he’d been forgotten, and… he definitely didn’t like that. So he leaned forward, pulling Brad’s chin towards him and kissing him again, shoving his tongue against his lips and deepening the kiss easily. 

Brad was finding it hard enough to function with Tyler sucking him off, so when he felt Looch’s finger push inside him, he almost lost it. _Almost_. The alien feeling was enough to keep him grounded, not that he was against the idea, though. Hell, the thought of Looch fucking him was actually a turn on, though in the back of his mind he’d much rather it be Tyler. “Fuck, yes,” Brad groaned into the kiss, pulling away from Milan’s lips so he could breathe. Tyler did _something_ with his tongue, and he bit his lip, holding in another moan. “Segs, shit, that’s good,” he said, his voice breathy. 

Tyler hummed in response, eyes watching Brad’s expression. He was enjoying this, watching him practically come apart, almost, but not quite yet. 

Milan was panting slightly; eyes watching Tyler suck Brad off. He was so fucking _hard_ , he desperately needed release soon. So he added another finger, and the way Brad bit his lip made him want him more. “I’m gonna fuck you hard, Marchy,” he groaned, scissoring his fingers. 

Tyler pulled off of Brad, who let out a frustrated growl, but he simply grinned, “I’ll slick you up, then,” he said, waggling his eyebrows at Looch before doing as he’d said, taking Milan into his mouth. Milan let out a small moan, eyes fluttering. Tyler wasn’t just amazing with his hands; he did wonders with his tongue- which was really no surprise. No wonder Brad was practically trembling. 

“Fuck, you have an amazing mouth,” Looch commented, hips bucking forward a bit as he pushed his fingers further into Brad. God, he was so close already, and that was just not okay. He put his free hand to Tyler’s head, giving him a small push. He seemed to get the message, because he pulled his mouth off his dick. Looch withdrew his fingers from Brad, mind hazy with the shear desire to just _fuck_ him.

Before Tyler could go back to sucking Brad off, Brad shifted his position against the wall, turning. He leaned his forehead against the cool tile, breathing heavily. The short winger bit back a moan as Tyler found his dick again. Shit, he wasn’t going to last much longer, not with Tyler blowing him like this. Not with Looch behind him, pressing his dick in. 

“Fuck,” Brad bit down on his lip so hard that he drew blood, the alcohol in his body and Tyler’s mouth on him not enough to dull the ache of Milan pushing inside. Because shit, he’d never been fucked before- this was unchartered waters for him. The breathy moan from Looch when he was pressed all the way in sent a shiver down Brad’s spine, and he sucked his bleeding low lip into his mouth, “Just move,” he grit out. Because Tyler was trying to suck his brains out through his dick, and he could tell he wouldn’t last much longer. 

Brad didn’t have to tell him twice. Milan jerked his hips experimentally, clenching his eyes shut in bliss. Marchy was fucking _tight_. “God, that’s good,” he moaned, one hand gripping his hip tightly as he thrust his hips again. Shit, it was definitely the alcohol coursing through his veins causing him to lose control so fast. He was pretty sure it was the same for the other two, because usually he had stamina to brag about. But right now? He was closing in on his orgasm quickly. 

“Fuck,” Brad moaned, hips jerking slightly in reaction to Milan’s thrusts. Tyler reached up to steady his hips, to keep him from moving more. He wasn’t exactly a pro at blowjobs, he couldn’t handle all of Brad- not yet, at least. Brad let out a choked gasp, hand moving to Tyler’s head, trying to signal he was going to come. But Tyler didn’t let up, mouth and tongue working on the head of Brad’s erection. That was enough to send Brad over the edge, releasing with a loud moan, able to feel Tyler’s throat work as he swallowed. 

“Shit,” Milan panted as Brad came apart, almost losing himself as he clenched around his dick. But he staved off the impending orgasm, and he bent further over Brad’s back, biting down at the juncture between his neck and shoulder and moving his hips harder. 

Tyler pulled his mouth from Brad’s dick when he was spent, licking his lips and moving up enough to pull Brad in for a kiss; he was able to feel the shorter winger trembling as Looch thrust into him. This whole thing was hot, and he moved his hand to his own dick to finish himself off.

Brad could taste himself on Tyler’s tongue, and he loved it. But when Tyler reached down to stroke himself, Brad knocked his hand away. No way in hell; he intended to return the favor. “Let me,” he pleaded, and Tyler groaned at the thought- standing up fully and leaning against the wall. 

Milan let up, slowing his hips enough so they could shift their position- admittedly, having sex in a bathroom in a club wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but hell if it wasn’t worth it. He and Brad moved to their knees, and when Brad’s mouth latched onto Tyler’s dick, he resumed his frenzied pace, feeling like he was going to come apart at any given second. “Fuck, you feel so good, Marchy,” he groaned. 

Brad hummed his acknowledgement around Tyler’s dick, and the twenty-one year old mewled in pleasure. Brad brought a hand up to wrap around the base of his erection, unable to take him as deeply has he’d done for him. But it was enough, Tyler’s thighs were trembling with the effort to keep him standing. 

“Shit,” Milan moaned, hips slamming into Brad’s slower but harder. He was so fucking close he could taste it! Looch cursed again, and then finally his hips stilled and he groaned, finally coming apart and releasing inside Marchy. Milan was panting harshly, and he slumped slightly against Brad’ back.

Brad moaned around Tyler’s dick, which easily sent Tyler over the edge as well. He watched Brad swallow his cum, and he groaned, finding it to be one of the sexiest things he’d ever seen. “Shit, Brad,” he mumbled as the other pulled his mouth off his now limp cock. He slid down the wall, breathing harshly, but he got to his knees and leaned in to kiss him, tongues playing. Next time, though, he wanted to be the one to fuck him- and wow, he was already thinking of a next time? 

“Fuck,” Brad hissed into the kiss as Looch pulled out of him. Tyler pulled away from the kiss; hand still on his cheek, though. Milan leaned forward, capturing Tyler’s lips for himself. It was slow, drawn out. But the dull thrum from the music outside was bringing them back to reality. 

Milan was the first to get a grip, and he pushed himself to shaky legs, grabbing some paper towels and wetting them. He handed a few to Tyler and Brad, and then cleaned himself up a bit. “That was insane,” he said, voice slightly hoarse. He stumbled a bit, and not only because of his Jell-O like legs, but because he was still drunk as shit. 

“Yeah, what the fuck,” Brad agreed, pulling his pants up and throwing out the paper towel. God, he would feel this in the morning. But that had definitely been the hardest orgasm he’d ever experienced. He looked at Segs, “I won’t ever see your tongue the same ever again,” he said.

Tyler looked at him with a slightly bleary look- why did Brad seem sobered up already? Did sex do that to him or something? “Good, because I don’t want you to,” he retorted, and that seemed to stir something in Brad, because he leaned forward and kissed him again. Which was totally fine with Tyler. 

Looch rolled his eyes, “Fuck, you two are weird,” he commented, feeling as if he were intruded even though he had just partaken in a threesome with them. 

Brad pulled away to smirk at Looch, “And it turns you on, otherwise you wouldn’t have joined in,” he commented.

Tyler laughed, “I’d be up for that again, though next time I’m fucking Brad,” he said, wrapping an arm around Brad’s shoulders with a grin at Looch.

Brad looked at him, “Come back to my place, then,” he grinned loosely, and yeah, he was still drunk- that was obvious now. 

“Shit, I’m down,” Tyler groaned, leaning in to kiss the shorter player again- he just couldn’t keep his hands or lips off of him. They’d already crossed the line, might as well not go back. 

Milan shook his head, “Fuck, tempting, but I think you two would rather be alone, by the looks of things,” he said, though he didn’t sound down or anything. For him, it’d just been about getting off, after all, nothing more. They all seemed to understand that, even drunk. “I think,” he cleared his throat, “the guys are going to realize something,” he said, unlocking the door after making sure he looked decently presentable. Well, out of all of them, he did look the least fucked. So he smirked, “see you back at the bar,” he said exiting. 

Brad rolled his eyes. “Whatever, let’s just get out of here, Segs,” he said, “I really think I want a round two,” he said, opening the door. 

-

Once they returned to the bar, Tyler’s arm around Brad’s shoulder, the guys knew something was up. It seemed like they didn’t suspect Looch had been involved, but it didn’t matter. “Have fun?” Soupy asked, raising a brow teasingly. “You guys spent a long time in the bathroom,” he laughed, and the others cat called teasingly.

Brad grinned, “You could say that,” he said simply. 

“Wait, what?” Dougie asked, ever the innocent, sober ginger. “What are you talking about?”

Soupy gave him a sympathetic look, “Look at them, they _definitely_ just hooked up,” he laughed, watching Dougie turn red. “Don’t look so startled, how could you not see this coming, little grasshopper?” He laughed. A drunk Soupy was always a very amusing Soupy.

“That’s,” Dougie shook his head, raising a hand to his forehead, looking like he had a headache. “Whatever,” he sighed. 

“Hey, Dougie,” Brad called, and he watched the kid look up, looking somewhat horrified, “Can you close out my tab? I trust you to be the responsible one,” he grinned, pulling out his wallet and handing his credit card to the nineteen year old. “Seggy and I have a date with my bed,” he said with a grin. 

Dougie looked even more horrified, but he took the credit card with a mute nod. He didn’t seem to trust himself to talk, and his face matched his hair. 

Tyler laughed, and he leaned into Brad and pressed a kiss into his neck, nipping lightly. 

“Woah, boys,” Soupy laughed, raising his hands, “Don’t forget the phones!” He reminded them.

Brad rolled his eyes, “Whatever, see you,” he said to the others, pulling Tyler with him towards the exit of the club. 

When they finally made it to Brad’s place, they passed out on his bed before they could even begin round two.


End file.
